


Can't Stand The Heat

by platinum_firebird



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Denial of Feelings, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, Stranded, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27339085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platinum_firebird/pseuds/platinum_firebird
Summary: Shockingly, being stranded on a desert planet with nothing to do but spend every second of every very hot day with Shepard does not do wonders for James' self-control.
Relationships: Female Shepard/James Vega
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16
Collections: Fic In A Box





	Can't Stand The Heat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [barbex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbex/gifts).



If there’s one thing James Vega knows, it’s that it is - and always has been - a bad idea to fuck the boss.

Even if she’s Commander Shepard, first human Spectre, Saviour of the Citadel, Slayer of Reapers, or whatever fancy title they’re calling her now. Even if she makes him want to nickname her after hot older sisters and say stupid shit whenever she comes near. Even if he feels like his eyes follow her around every room she walks through, drawn in by a magnetic current.

Even if nothing. Getting involved with her that way is a big mistake, and with Reapers wrecking shit all over the galaxy and the _Normandy_ crew getting into firefights every goddamn week, James has mostly managed to distract himself.

The problem is that now they’re shipwrecked on the most boring, lifeless dustball of a colony James has ever seen, and suddenly there isn’t much in the way of distraction.

He’s sitting under the shelter where the communications array is set up, hiding from the blistering heat of the sun. He’s meant to be watching the small screen for incoming messages.

Instead, he’s watching her.

Shepard is rarely content to kick back and sit still. Much as she laments the fact that she never gets to take a break when they’re back on the _Normandy_ , now here they are, with so little to do that James has spent the last two hours sitting here watching a comm screen - and she’s found some way to be busy. The locals need a trench dug so that they can bury electrical cables out of the heat, so Shepard’s digging a trench.

He should probably go help, instead of sitting here. But damn, he’s enjoying the view. (He shouldn’t be; he knows damn well he shouldn’t be. But there’s a lot of sweat, and well-defined muscles…)

Several other people glance or openly stare at her as they go about their duties for the colony, but James is pretty sure their thinking is more along the lines of _Is that_ the _Commander Shepard digging a trench in the middle of my colony?_ and not _Damn, Commander Shepard is smoking hot._

Well. Maybe they’re thinking both, but he’s the only one thinking _entirely_ the latter.

Eventually he drags himself up and goes to find some water. When he comes back, bottles tucked under his arm, he reaches down into the trench. “Time for a water break, Lola. Doctor’s orders.”

Shepard squints up at him, wiping the sweat off her forehead. “Must’ve missed you gaining your medical degree, Vega,” she says, reaching up so he can pull her out of the trench.

“Oh, I’m fully certified. James Vega M.D.,” he says, handing her two water bottles. He pointedly doesn’t watch as she opens one and upends it over her face and shoulders. “You having fun playing in the sand?”

“It’s a bit tougher than making a sandcastle. No response to the distress call?”

“Nothing,” James says, taking a swig from his own bottle. “Come on, let’s get in the shade.”

The tiny colony of Parabola has gone unnoticed and untouched by the Reapers up til now. It has, as far as James can tell, gone unnoticed by the rest of the galaxy, too; even by Colonial Affairs, given the state of their supplies. It was going to be a mining colony, except the Reapers hit Earth just before their equipment could get shipped out. Now the only people here are the preliminary survey teams and a skeleton management crew for the mine, as well as a group of scientists studying the strange rock formations further south. Including families and their security team, they’re barely two hundred people.

Now barely two hundred, plus three.

James leads Shepard into the medical bay, which is a blissfully cool escape from the heat outside. Doctor Chavoshi is at her workstation, and she gives them the smallest of nods as they pass.

Steve is propped up in bed, looking better than when James came to visit him last night. He suffered a nasty head wound during their unceremonious landing out in the desert, but his eyes are clear now as he looks up at them. “Looks like you’ve wasted no time getting to work, Commander,” he grins.

“Working hard or hardly working,” Shepard says dryly, taking a seat on the bed next to Steve. His is the only one occupied.

James sits on Steve’s opposite side, and begins ribbing him about his bandages, which neatly covers his worry over how ghastly Steve still looks, with most of his head swaddled in white cloth. He watches Shepard out the corner of his eye, noting the tired slump of her shoulders and how her eyes slip closed after several minutes. Maybe he _should_ make her take advantage of their time here to kick back and rest up - after all, it’s not like they’ll get much downtime after they’re rescued.

What he actually does is let her bully him into helping her out, but at least that means the trench gets dug in half the time.

James can see the relief on Maya Aubrey’s face when she comes by and inspects the work they’ve done. As colony director, he can bet she was dreading assigning someone to that particular task; having two marines show up out of nowhere and volunteer has taken a nasty headache off her hands. “I can’t thank you enough, Commander,” she says, “Are you sure there’s nothing else we can do for you?”

Shepard defers, because the three of them are already taking up portions of Parabola’s limited food, water and medical supplies, not to mention risking beaming out a transmission that could alert the Reapers to their location. They shouldn’t need to be here long - if she’s on course, the _Normandy_ should only be a system or two away - and the colonists are giving more than enough.

The two of them are quartered in their very own private prefab. Given that there were supposed to be at least a hundred more colonists arriving within weeks of the Reaper attack, they’ve got many more prefab accommodation blocks than they need, so the humble colonists of Parabola can provide the great Commander Shepard with an entire _building_ all to herself.

Which is fine. Great, even. Except on the _Normandy_ Shepard has her own cabin, so James never has to see her out of uniform or armour, or in the early morning with messy hair and the half-awake look of someone who’s only just rolled out of bed. It’s a complication, blurring that line between personal and professional that he drew between them. He also can’t help but think she looks _cute_ , which is a whole can of worms he does not want to open. Admitting that he finds Shepard hot is understandable; half the crew of the _Normandy_ would probably admit the same if pressed. But if seeing her in pyjamas with a ruffled bedhead is setting off warm fuzzy feelings in his chest, then that’s a _problem_.

Part of him has never wished so hard to hear Joker or EDI’s voice over the radio; but another part of him…

Yeah, another weaselly little guilty part of him is enjoying this. The downtime, the informality. The _domesticity._

“You’re a fucking idiot, James Vega,” he tells the ceiling of his bedroom, lying awake at two AM, unable to sleep.

The ceiling doesn’t speak back, of course, but it definitely feels like the silent room is judging him.

The next day dawns clear and hot, just like every other day they’ve been here. Parabola sees rain only in brief, violent storms once or twice a year, so James’ hope for clouds seems pretty likely to go unfulfilled. He gets up early, grabbing a nutrition bar for breakfast and heading out to the communications array, which stays maddeningly silent as he sits there and watches the sun’s light grow stronger.

After a while, someone sits down beside him. “Still nothing?” Shepard’s voice says.

He doesn’t look at her, just hums a negative. They sit quietly as the heat creeps up, both lost in their own thoughts, until Shepard says, “You wanna go for a run or something?”

 _Perpetually busy,_ James thinks, even as he agrees and stands. He may tease her for it in the privacy of his own head, but the truth is he’s little different. Inactivity begins to wear him down after a while; probably why he could never stop moving around, or settle down into a normal job.

Probably why the two of them make such a good match for each other.

 _Banish those thoughts, buddy_ , he thinks at himself, as he’s pulling on his borrowed running shoes.

They set out from the colony, only seeing a few other early birds as they leave the small cluster of prefab buildings behind. The colonists have assured them Parabola’s wildlife is limited to small insects and reptiles, but it would be just their luck to run into some as-yet undiscovered monster while they’re doing something as simple as a morning jog. He relates this thought to Shepard, and feels a little bubble of warmth in his chest when it makes her laugh ruefully.

Ugh. The warm fuzzy feelings are back.

“If I see a thresher maw, I’m fucking running,” James mutters, looking out over the vast expanse of sand around them.

Shepard smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and that’s when James remembers, _Ah, shit, Akuze,_ and feels like a dick. “You managed to talk anyone into giving you a productive task today, Commander?” he asks quickly, to change the subject.

That, for some unknown reason, makes Shepard laugh. “Doctor Chavoshi’s asked me to take a shipment down to the scientist’s camp.”

James frowns, unable to see the joke. “Which is hilarious because…?”

“Because half the shipment is contraceptives,” Shepard says, still grinning. “Apparently the scientists are all young and unattached, so she wants to encourage them to be safe.”

James snorts. “Not much else to do in the desert, right?”

“I guess,” Shepard says, lifting her eyebrows.

He shouldn’t push it - but then again, he’s James fucking Vega, and he doesn’t know when to goddamn well quit. “You’re digging trenches to keep yourself occupied, Commander,” he says.

“Well, nobody’s offered,” Shepard says, all nonchalance, but James wonders- is she saying _he_ should-

No. She’s just stating the truth. “They’re all still in awe of the great Commander Shepard,” James says, “Unlike me, who’s seen what you look like covered in Reaper guts.”

“Ha ha,” Shepard says, and the conversation moves on.

When they get back to the main compound, Doctor Chavoshi has already loaded up a rover. James hesitates for a second as Shepard climbs up into the driver’s seat, glancing at the communications array. It would be good for them to know as soon as rescue arrives - but then again, if he loses Shepard to some desert monster on this backwater planet, he’d never live it down (or forgive himself). “Coming up,” he says, swinging himself up into the passenger seat.

Shepard looks at him with raised eyebrows. “Not gonna stay and watch the comms?”

“I’m still technically your bodyguard, Commander,” he says. “Would look bad on my record if I let you die alone in the desert. ‘Sides, Max said he’ll check up on the array every couple hours. If a message comes in, he’ll let us know.”

“I can survive for a couple of hours alone in the desert, Vega,” Shepard says, but she’s already starting the engine.

“But then you wouldn’t have the benefit of my _scintillating_ conversation.”

The drive across the desert takes just under two hours, even with Shepard’s… creative manner of driving. “Now I see what Ash and Garrus were complaining about,” he mutters as they finally roll into the scientist’s compound.

“What was that, Vega?”

“I said I’ll go get the first boxes, ma’am,” James says, slipping out of the rover.

There are only thirteen scientists in the compound, and all of them come out to gather round Shepard like a bunch of curious puppies, staring at her with wide eyes as she introduces herself. James and the others have told her she doesn’t need to do that anymore - very few are the people who don’t recognise her on sight, at least among humans - but Shepard finds that impolite. So, while she and the scientists do the usual ‘Hello I’m Commander Shepard’ ‘wait, _the_ Commander Shepard?’ dance, James unloads the crates.

He has them separated into food, mechanics and electronics, and medical supplies by the time most of the scientists come hurrying over and start carrying them off to where they want them. It takes most of an hour, but they get all the boxes squared away, after which the scientists offer to make them lunch and show them their research. James would happily take the former over the latter, but because she’s too nice to be a real human being, Shepard accepts both offers.

“We could’ve just had sandwiches and left,” James says in an undertone, as they’re led around the tiny geology lab. The young woman speaking now introduced herself as Noha, and James has no idea what she’s talking about.

“Hush,” Shepard tells him, and James resigns himself to biting his tongue.

But when they finally get out of the lab, there’s something unexpected on the horizon - literally. “Are those clouds?” James asks, dragging everyone’s attention up to the skyline.

They’re definitely clouds, and they seem to get thicker and blacker literally as they watch. The science compound was constructed at a high elevation to prevent flash-flooding during storms, but still there’s a wild scramble to get anything inside that might not survive the rain.

The rain, when it comes, is sudden and fierce, pouring down from the sky. The scientists have split up between their three main buildings, with the majority of them clustering here in the prefab that serves as both their mess and medical bay, one at each end of the simple rectangle of metal and glass. They want to ask James and Shepard questions, mostly about the war - how it’s going, where’s been hit, can they _win_ \- as well as talking through their options for evacuating Parabola. As Doctor Chavoshi told Shepard, the scientists are all under about thirty-five, and most of them want to get back to their families. The colony has one ship, and Director Aubrey has so far refused to consider letting anyone use it to evacuate. Shepard, of course, offers to give any of them who want to go back to the Citadel a lift on the _Normandy_ , though not without warning them about the situation many refugees have found themselves in aboard the station. While they talk it through, deciding who’ll leave and who wants to stay, James stares out at the rain. Of course all this talk brings up thoughts of his uncle and his father, and how he has no idea if either of them are even alive. And no way to find out, either.

It’s a relief when the sky begins to darken with the setting of the sun rather than more cloud cover, and the scientists start talking about heading to bed. Nights are significantly shorter than days on this planet, owing to the colony being so far north to escape the heat of the equator. There’s no question of the two of them going back to the main compound now, so they start setting up rough beds on the couches in the small rec area.

Shepard assures Giovanni, the head scientist, again that none of them need to give up their beds, and soon after most of the scientists brave the rain to go back to their bunkrooms, leaving Shepard and James alone. The light outside drops even more, leaving them with only the small camping lamp. It’s warm orange glow is cosy, and it’s only adding to the weird camping trip/sleepover atmosphere.

“You ever do a tour on a desert planet like this, Commander?” James asks, if only to break the silence.

Shepard shakes her head. “Why, have you?”

“Yeah, and damn boring it was too. Patrols were _hell_. Our prefabs were cramped as anything, but they were the only place to get a break from the heat, so you can imagine how sick we got of each other’s faces.”

“I thought you kept yourself _entertained_ ,” Shepard says, giving him a suggestive look.

James tries to ignore how that look makes something jump in his gut, and curses his earlier loose tongue. “I mean, sure.”

“Must’ve been tough in such cramped quarters.”

“Nah, that just meant we had to get _inventive_.”

Shepard smirks a little at that. “At least tell me you didn’t risk it outside. All that sand…” She makes a face.

“I don’t know, with a blanket…”

“No. Just no.”

“Well at least I’m getting an idea of your preferences, Lola,” James says, meaning it to come out just joking - but of course, it comes out flirty.

Shepard raises one perfectly arch eyebrow and says, “I think most women prefer not to have sand in unmentionable places, Vega,” which punctures his confidence pretty thoroughly.

“I dunno, maybe it’s someone’s kink,” he says pretty much on reflex, which surprises a laugh out of Shepard.

The rain is still chucking it down outside; they can hear it slamming against the roof and sluicing down the sides of the buildings as their laughter dies away. The silence is comfortable - until Vega clocks the speculative way Shepard is looking at him.

He’s about to tell her to just spit it out when she says, “Vega, do you wanna rescind that rule about not breaking rank?”

James curses internally; he’d forgotten just how blunt she could be. “Why do you ask?” he says, in a desperate attempt to stall for time.

“Over the past few days, you seemed to be hinting…” Shepard regards him with her head slightly tilted, a curious look on her face. “I may have jumped to conclusions,” she says, but the way she says it is easy, relaxed, with no hint of embarrassment. James gets the feeling he could say, ‘nah, just the usual flirting, Commander’ and she would accept that without an iota of bruised pride.

And that’s what he _should_ say. If he were being smart.

But they’re alone on a planet with very few demands on their time, far away from prying and judging eyes. The spark, the magnetic draw between them, has always been there; but back on the _Normandy_ there have always been enough distractions to tempt James away from those thoughts. Here on Parabola there’s nothing but food, sleep and the rain, and now the attraction between them is front and centre in his mind.

 _It doesn’t have to mean anything_ , he thinks as he opens his mouth.

 _But you know it’s going to_ , another voice whispers, even as he says, “Well, maybe just for now. I said myself there’s nothing better to do out here.”

A slow, almost predatory smirk spreads across Shepard’s face, and it kindles an answering fire low in James’ stomach. “What happens on Parabola stays on Parabola,” she says, as she gets up and stalks toward him.


End file.
